


whisper

by winluvr



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Divergence, College AU, Fake Dating, M/M, Non Linear Narrative, Unrequited Love, author apologizes for hurting atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25800244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winluvr/pseuds/winluvr
Summary: There are some things you can't help but regret.(in which Atsumu gets Kenma to be his fake boyfriend after getting his heart broken and feels things you shouldn't feel about a fake boyfriend)
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Miya Atsumu, Past Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu - Relationship
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	whisper

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i know it isn't the best but i wanted to create some content for a cute rare pair. i hope you enjoy it somewhat!

  1. miya atsumu, you didn’t even know my name the first time that we talked outside of classes.



“Hey,” the boy with a piss-yellow undercut that he had somehow never spoken to but always sat next to in his class says with a grin on his face, his voice trailing off by the end, indicating that he had forgotten his name. “Kenma or whatever.” He finally remembered. It’s rude, but barely anyone remembered his name anyway. It’s fine, until he tacked on to the end, “Be my boyfriend.”

Kenma steered his gaze away from his phone, his fingers still gliding over the screen, something he had committed to memory, to meet the boy’s eyes. “What?” 

“Ya heard me, pudding head,” the boy hummed.  _ How annoying. _ “Be my boyfriend.”  _ What is wrong with him? _

“I got that part,” Kenma retorted, slightly irritated. “But why? You could just ask one of your fangirls to date you if you’re getting desperate or something.”

“I’m gay,” he said. “And don’t worry, pudding head, I’ll reimburse ya for yer trouble,” he added.  _ That does not answer the question,  _ Kenma wanted to say. Instead he stayed silent and allowed the other boy to elaborate, which, unfortunately, he didn’t do. “I’ll buy you lunch everyday. Just…” His voice trailed away as if the details are too embarrassing to disclose. “Just pretend to be my boyfriend for two months. Give me two months at most, then feel free to lose my number.”

Kenma pondered about it for a while. “Tell me why, tell me about the thought process that went into this thing and I’ll think about it.” He held out his hand to Atsumu.

“Deal.” Atsumu took his hand and they shook on it.

☘︎︎

Atsumu had to swallow down whatever it was feeling inside his throat when he saw Shouyou holding hands with the setter of the volleyball team who had a storm cloud, albeit metaphorical, hanging above his head and a constant scowl on his face. Atsumu didn’t know what Shouyou saw in him, when Shouyou was so lovely and kind and brought sunshine everywhere he went and he was so grumpy and confusing and always looked sort of like he was constipated. But Atsumu didn’t know what Shouyou saw in him either. Atsumu had never been able to understand Hinata Shouyou, in all that he was, in all that he wanted, in all that he would become.

Atsumu trailed his hand down Kenma’s hand, and with a gentle tug, he closed the gap. He bowed his head down and whispered, “Is this okay with you?”

Kenma didn’t answer the question. “Atsumu,” he said, curling and uncurling his fingers, “does it still hurt?” He saw Atsumu nod, even if it was the slightest shadow of a nod, and changed the subject. “Doesn’t this get hard for you? You know, pretending that we’re dating, and pretending that you like me, and vice versa, all that.”

Atsumu hummed. “Yeah, well, in the first place, I didn’t think it would be easy, but it’s fine.” He glanced back at Kenma. “And I never told you that you had to like me.” 

Kenma sighed, letting go of Atsumu’s hand once his ex was finally out of sight. “You said that I had to pretend to like you.” He cracked the top of his milk carton open to take a sip. “You know, like normal boyfriends do.”

“Semantics schemantics,” Atsumu said in a sing-song voice. “So what if you did like me? Hmm? What then?”

“What if I liked you?” Kenma questioned, taken aback. “That’s a stupid question. We don’t know each other.”

☘︎︎

Two weeks have passed since they shook hands on it and now they are sitting across each other in Kenma’s dining room, their faces flushed, from the heat, from the alcohol they were drinking. He brought out their wine glasses that were reserved for fancy celebrations and family gatherings and two 330-ml cans of Asahi Super Dry beer that his father had bought from the convenience store, intending to drink sometime this week after coming home from a tedious work day. He would have to find an excuse for that later on. Kenma sits on the chair in front of Atsumu, his legs crossed, one on top of the other, and holds out his glass. “It’s been two weeks since I have been dealing with you so cheers to us,” he says before taking a sip. “Maybe you’ll be able to tell me more about it now. Why you chose me, of all people. Or maybe not. It’s your call.”

Atsumu laughs and Kenma can’t help but startle. It’s the first time in two weeks that he has allowed himself to laugh this loud. He sets down his wine glass on the table, not bothering to place it on a coaster. “Congrats,” he says, his words fading to a drawl. “You’ve been trying hard to deal with me.”  _ It isn’t that hard,  _ Kenma wants to say. “I know I’m a lot to put up with, so thank you. Thank you, my love.”  _ He used the pet name that he used to call his ex boyfriend.  _ He lets his hand graze over Kenma’s hand, tracing over the lines of his veins.  _ He’s already drunk, isn’t he?  _ He feels too close for it to feel friendly. He feels too close for it to feel fake at all. But Kenma doesn’t even know if he minds anymore. 

Kenma clears his throat, heat running under his skin. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I told you it’s nothing. It’s just a deal anyways, right?” He looks at Atsumu, whose face falters slightly, just enough for it to go unnoticed. “Uh, thanks for the lunch, I guess. I can save up for games.”

Atsumu smiles at him, the kind of smile he only directs to people he allows to come close to him, the kind of smile that he only lets grannies whom he helps cross the streets and friends who are lucky enough to make him laugh witness. “You asked for the reason, right?” Kenma hums. “What if I told ya there was no reason.”

“Really? You don’t know why you started all of this?” Kenma raises an eyebrow at Atsumu. “Then… I guess you were just wasting my time, after all.” He shrugs.

Somewhere, between the thin layers of clothes, an old pair of jersey shorts and his brother’s gray T-shirt, that he had on, between the warmth that the beer he was swallowing down like it was oxygen gave him, between the intoxicating feeling of the back of his throat burning with every sip he takes, Atsumu feels his heart waver.

❀

2\. kozume kenma, you didn’t even need to say anything to make my heart skip a beat, just staying with me in the silence, after i cried my eyes out seeing him with someone else.

Kenma found Atsumu alone, in the corner of the library where the book covers were starting to peel away and the ceiling light had begun flickering in and out of life, with his face in half shadow, like he was hiding. From something. From someone. Kenma wasn’t sure if he wanted to know, but he knew he wanted to check if he was okay, so despite anything his mind tried to tell him, he walks toward Atsumu, the soles of his shoes barely making a sound amid the silence of the library, a hand setting on the orange chair instead of his shoulder. 

“Hey,” Kenma said, in his most gentle voice, trying to make sure that the other boy wouldn’t become startled by his sudden appearance. “Are you okay?” He paused. “No, wait. I’m sorry. You’re not.” He dug in the pockets of his hoodie for his handkerchief and offered it to Atsumu, who took it wordlessly. “You can have it.” 

The silence became awkward quite quickly, rather than comforting as it always had been for Kenma, who loved the peace that followed the quietness of dark corners, but before Kenma turned around and started walking away, Atsumu put his hand around his wrist to stop him. “Wait, pudding head,” he said, “thank you.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Kenma nodded. “It’s nothing.” He faced the shelf next to him, his hand sliding across the classics and the pocket books, his eyes searching for something to check out later. “It’s like my job, right?”

“Oh,” Atsumu said, “is it okay if you stay for a while?” He twirled a fountain pen that he found on the table between his fingers, the chemistry textbook in front of him that he had intended to study already being forgotten, its thin pages staring mockingly at him.

“Yeah,” Kenma said, sitting down on the chair beside him. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Atsumu sighed, wanting to avoid the obvious topic of what he was feeling right now after crying until his eyes were red. He didn’t really know much about his feelings than they knew of him. “It’s nothing much, really. Could I tell ya about it another day? Let’s just, I don’t know, get some sleep.” He faked a yawn, stretching his arms out, glad that the librarian wasn’t lurking around behind the bookshelves. “I’m kind of tired, if you don’t mind...”

Kenma smiled before laying his arms flat on the table, his head cradled between them, and closed his eyes. Atsumu looked at Kenma, noticing the gentle curl of his lashes, the subtle way the black roots of his hair faded into its golden parts and how soft, how  _ pretty _ he looked under the dimmer lights of the library. Atsumu looked at Kenma, noticed the softer, gentler features of his face that contrasted greatly with the frown he always wore, and wondered if maybe he could fall in love with him. He tries to gulp the thought down, willing it to go down his throat but he knows that it would merely resurface. 

☘︎︎

Atsumu looks at Kenma, who is currently drumming his fingers on the wooden table. Kenma looks back at him and he has to avert his eyes. “So?” Kenma prods, his hand tugging mindlessly at the air between them, like it was searching for his phone. He looks at him, studying his eyes, searching for the pain behind them, trying to understand what he was feeling, so that he could also begin to understand the pain he felt inside his chest.

“So,” Atsumu says, and leaves it at that. He picks at the bowl of  _ shoyu ramen _ in front of him, stirring the thin glass-like noodles mindlessly with his chopsticks.

Kenma looks at him. “Are we going to talk about it?” He chews, as delicately as usual, on a steamed  _ gyoza _ and looks at the other boy. “I was wondering what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, really.” Atsumu sighs. “I still haven’t gotten used to the whole Shouyou thing. Or the Shouyou and Tobio-kun thing.” He slides the bowl towards Kenma. “Do you want some? I’m not that hungry anymore.”

Kenma looks down at the black bowl of  _ ramen  _ and shakes his head. “Atsumu, you’ve barely eaten any of it,” Kenma says, “and this is your treat, isn’t it?”

Atsumu nods and props up his elbow on the table to rest his head that feels so heavy against his hand, that feels like it is going to burst any second now. “Kenma,” he says, “why can’t I stop thinking of him?”

“Are you sure you’re doing your best to forget him?” Kenma’s answer comes like a flood, washing over him with a feeling that he couldn’t quite place his finger to. Sadness. Nostalgia. Regret. Loneliness. Or maybe, it was guilt. 

☘︎︎

Atsumu picks at a chipped nail, wincing at the sharp onslaught of pain it brought to his index finger. “Yeah, so, about the whole situation.” He looks at Kenma who doesn’t look back at him, instead looking down at his phone. “I’m sorry if I got you into this mess.”

Kenma sighs. “It’s fine, really.” He is standing beside a classroom door, his back hunched against it. “I don’t really mind anymore. I guess it’s always like this. You’ll end up getting used to all of the stares and attention then they’ll just feel like nothing.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me all that much, but I still can’t get used to a lot of people knowing my name, unlike before.”

Atsumu snorts. “If I didn’t know you that well, I would say you only agreed to date me for all the attention you would get.” A small smile settles on the corners of his quirked lips. ”It’s a good thing you aren’t into that.”

Kenma sees a couple pass by the corridor, the taller boy wrapping his arm around the shoulders of the smaller boy who had a huge, blinding smile on his face. Without thinking, Kenma holds Atsumu’s hand, who jumps in shock at the slightest touch that he would give him. “Shh,” he whispers, “we’ll look suspicious.”

“Can we stay like this for a while?” Atsumu says.  _ Can we stay together for a little bit longer?  _ he wants to say. He wants him to stay. He doesn’t know whether he was catching feelings already or he just needed someone. 

Kenma blinks at him, confused. “Huh?” he says, curling his fingers around his hand again. “Okay then, if that’s what you want.”

❀

3\. miya atsumu, you haven’t moved on from your ex yet. do you really know what you want?

There was no good reason for them to break up. He broke up with him months days ago, his tangerine hair glowing against the cold breeze of the winter, the sound of his voice melancholy against the zephyr-like wind. There were tears in his eyes as he spoke but Miya Atsumu could not find the right words to say. They spent a whole two years together and yet two years already felt like nothing. The two years they had shared already felt meaningless. The boy said he was sorry. Atsumu peered into his soul but he could not find the guilt in his eyes. He does not know whether to console him or not. The boy told him it was not his fault. Atsumu felt like it definitely was. There was no good reason for them to stay together. The boy smiled up at him sadly and it all felt like a melodrama unfolding right in front of his eyes but maybe they were not the protagonists. Atsumu looked around to see if there were cameras zooming in on them. There are none. Silence strikes down like a typhoon upon them but there is no need for comfort. There are no words shared between them among the deafening silence but there is no need for consolation. There are no goodbyes.

The truth only dawns on Miya Atsumu recently. He feels empty, hollow, like a huge part of him has been stripped away from his being. There are no meltdowns in the middle of his room while his brother has to bribe him to come out for lunch but Atsumu does not know what to do now. He feels helpless, alone, lonely. He knew him for four years. He loved him for three of them. He had him for two. It feels like the end of the world and it just might be the end of the world. He watches his world stray away from his control. He watches as the rain water pours outside his bedroom window, the sky turning a bluish shade of gray against the pearly white clouds. He leans against his door in an attempt to recollect his thoughts. The tears rise like the carbonation of a shaken-up soda bottle in his chest, but they don’t flow. They never come when he wants them to.

☘︎︎

Miya Atsumu has never learned how to say no. Maybe that’s why he can never say no when his friends ask him to drive them home after a drinking session in a bar so far away from their homes. Maybe that’s why he never says no to a drink or two with his friends, whom his brother considered bad influences, and a Marlboro at night. Maybe that’s why he never hangs up the phone when his ex-boyfriend calls him in the middle of the night to say sorry. For breaking up with him. For moving on so quickly. For taking a piece of his heart with him. He never fails to exert all of his efforts into everything he puts his heart to so maybe that’s why he always ends up breaking himself. He has never known a bad break-up outside of the cheesy rom-coms that his mother watches until he finally experienced one.

Atsumu has gotten so used to holding Shouyou’s hand that holding other people has already become strange to him, unfamiliar to his hands like a world he hadn’t discovered yet, like a travesty he hadn’t been able to dig deeper to find. If Shouyou was the end of the world, then maybe Kenma was the new beginning that he was desperately searching for. Shouyou was a crow that was constantly changing and maybe, just maybe, Atsumu could not keep up with him like he thought he would be able to. Kenma was a planet that turned ever so slowly without overwhelming either of them, just matching Atsumu’s pace. Atsumu felt comfortable with him. The thing is, did he find solace in Atsumu too?

☘︎︎

The first thing that Atsumu learns about Kenma is that he doesn’t like to eat. He could go on for hours without even eating a meal, just playing a game on his phone or his handheld. He wasn’t really a big eater. He only picked at McDonald’s apple pies and  _ ramen  _ and  _ gyoza  _ but he didn’t like eating big, fulfilling meals. Atsumu felt the need to learn how to cook just so he could make him a bento or something, get him to eat some more. Maybe he could bribe his brother to cook him a meal. He knew all too well that Osamu had something akin to a soft spot for him but didn’t want to admit it to anyone.

The second thing that Atsumu learns about Kenma is how his golden eyes seem to light up even the darkest corners of the room whenever he buys a new game. He would stay up the whole night, no matter if it was a school day or not, just to finish playing the game. If only Kuroo, his best friend and something like a moral compass to him or the little voice inside his head, didn’t constantly remind him of the importance of studying and getting good grades then he probably would have even skipped his classes just to play his video games. 

The third thing that Atsumu learns about Kenma is how perceptive he was. Kenma could take one look at him, see his bloodshot eyes, see the small smile on his face, see the slightest hint of his eyes crinkling at the corners and tell exactly what he was feeling. Atsumu didn’t know how he should feel about this, when Kenma could read him like a book so easily when he couldn’t tell what Kenma was thinking at all. He wanted to learn more about him, but he kept himself locked up.

❀

4\. kozume kenma, you haven’t been able to tell me you love me in the course of this whole fake relationship and i don’t know how i feel about it. should i feel hurt? i don’t know what i want.

They’re standing on Atsumu’s balcony, pondering about things between love and life and what it would be like to be able to hold someone without feeling guilty, without feeling lonely. It is actually just Atsumu who is thinking about those things, for the most part. Kenma is looking up at the golden stars shining in the blanket of the night stretching out above them, his eyes so filled with wonder, looking so tender, looking so soft, so gentle that Atsumu couldn’t help but stare at him.

“Kenma,” Atsumu says to break the silence, “have you ever actually, really liked someone?” He looks up at the sky too, watching the stars, then back at Kenma who is standing right next to him. He can’t help looking at him the way he does, the way you can’t help but admire something beautiful, like a mountain towering over you.

Kenma hums, his arms resting on the railing. “Yeah, sure,” he says, mulling over it. “I think the first crush I ever had was Kuro. You know, my best friend.”

“Oh,” Atsumu says, working hard not to let even the faintest, subtlest hint of jealousy color his tone. It feels too hard for him, trying not to let Kenma read him. “I’ve only liked a few boys in my lifetime too.”

“You sound like an old man.” Kenma laughs. “But sure, tell me about them. Of course, I already know about Hinata Shouyou. You’ve said a lot about him.”

Atsumu winces at the mention of the name. “Well, uh, there was Kita-san. The longest one I had, I guess. I don’t think feelings go away easily. Then Shouyou. But you already knew that. Then there was Sunarin, just for a short while, but he’s my brother’s boyfriend now so I can’t do anything about it.” He gambles with a thought, contemplating whether or not to let the words slip.  _ And you,  _ he wants to say. But he never finds the courage.

☘︎︎

They had a beer in their hands again and the sun was setting in front of them. “I love you,” Atsumu whispered that day, a vacant hand finding its way around Kenma’s waist. They both knew it was all just an act, so why did Atsumu’s voice sound so tender when he said it?

“Mhm,” Kenma said, letting him rest his arm around his waist, not doing anything about it, never saying a word about it. He took a sip from his can, the crisp taste hitting his throat, refreshing against the summer heat.

Atsumu looked down at him and smiled. He didn’t even have to try too hard or even try at all to make him smile like this. He just had to pop his can open, looking like someone that Atsumu could learn to love, looking like something that he could long for. Kenma looked on into the endless distance in front of them, sipping his beer that tastes like barley and something reminiscent of regret, resting his head against Atsumu’s shoulder, feeling like something Atsumu has already fallen for.

5\. miya atsumu, i’m sorry i can’t be the one you deserve to have. i’m sorry i can’t be the one you deserve to love. i’m sorry for breaking your heart when i promised to help you mend it.

They’re sitting together, their backpacks resting in the space between them, Atsumu’s hand resting on top of Kenma’s, when he suddenly breaks the silence.

“Kenma,” Atsumu says, in a way that sounds more serious this time, in a way that sounds more serious than he has ever been in his lifetime, “I think I like you.”

Kenma startles, taken aback. Then a frown settles on his face. “Atsumu, I’m… I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” He blinks at him, swirling the pale cream inside his coffee. “I think… I think you’re just confused.”

“Kenma, I’m serious about it.” He looks at him, willing him to understand, willing him to think about it, willing him to hear him out. “I like you. Don’t worry, it’s not just me projecting my feelings for Shouyou or something.”

Kenma blinks tears out of his eyes. “Atsumu, I’m sorry.” He stands up, rushing to take his backpack with him. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry but I can’t like you.”

6\. kozume kenma, i think i have to unlearn you for my own good, but it seems like i can’t do it.

Atsumu sits on his bed and finally decides to take matters into his own hands and send Kenma a text message, to purge at least some of the pain that he was feeling inside his chest for a few months now.

‘Hi, Kenma,’ his text reads. ‘I’m sorry for taking you by surprise like that. Maybe we could talk it over. Maybe we could start again As friends, this time.’

It only takes a while for Kenma to respond with a few words. ‘uh sorry,’ the text reads. ‘who’s this?’


End file.
